summary: What if Jack had stayed on New Mecca with Imam? What if Riddick had come back for her? (Riddick/Jack, Imam/OFC)

comments/disclaimers: General disclaimers apply.

The marauders’ leader stalked back over to Jack and demanded, “Where’d the kid go?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, honestly.

Nahlah could be hiding in any of a hundred places in her family’s garden by now, where they would never find her. It was her home territory, not theirs.

He studied her, his expression flat and dangerous. “I’ll leave a couple of men here for awhile. If she makes the mistake of showing herself before they leave, she’s mine. And I’ll make you watch.”

Stay put, Nahlah, Jack ordered, silently. I’ve been gone over twenty minutes already. Fatima will tell Rick as soon as he comes in where I went. He’ll come find you.

The infidel made a point of corralling two of his men and telling them what he had just told her. Their expressions left no doubt that they would likely have Nahlah first, before they took her to their leader, if she had the misfortune to be captured by them.

“Come on, princess,” he snarled at Jack. “You have an air car to start for me.”

Her captor shoved her ahead of him out the door, propelling her with enough force for the unexpected momentum to knock the scarf off the back of her head, revealing her unusually colored hair. He grabbed her braid, ripping the clasp off the end of it, so that her hair would work its way loose. All around her, she heard gasps from the Chrislam marauders. Seeing a grown woman’s hair was a very arousing sight to them.

Jack started to balk, but caught herself, both because she was playing the wanton and because her loose hair would surely add to her scent trail. As much as Riddick loved to smell it, and favored a particular shampoo on it, there was some possibility it could increase his chances of finding her. She reached back and deliberately ran her fingers through her long tresses, helping them to fall out loose, so that they would stream behind her as they rode in the air car.

The ex-merc leader buried his nose in her hair and inhaled deeply. “We’re gonna have a good time later, princess,” he promised, hissing hotly in her ear.

It was all Jack could do not to elbow him in the gut. She knew convincing them to take her with them instead of Nahlah, plus this stunt with her hair, could very well get her raped before the night was over. However, she also knew it was better to have their leader fixated on her, because then she would only have one of them to contend with, at least until he got tired of her. Surely Riddick would find her before that happened. She hoped she would be able to figure out en route what strategy would make the man least likely to rape her as soon as they got where they were going. The longer she could titillate him while keeping him at bay, the better.

Jack dutifully climbed into the air car and keyed the starting sequence. The little vehicle obligingly fired up. The leader shoved her roughly from the driver’s seat into the passenger seat and climbed in after her. A few other men clambered into the back seats and off they went. She was glad they went at a good enough clip to whip the wind through her billowing hair.

Sooner than she had hoped, his near hand snaked over and started stroking her thigh. Jack forced herself not to react negatively. The bastard seemed to like the idea of forcing women, especially those with spirit. If she seemed pliant and willing, it might take the edge off his ardor. She felt her gorge rise as his fingers moved over her thigh to stroke between her legs.

I want Rick to kill you very slowly, she determined, with a rush of pure hatred.

But she somehow turned towards him and smiled, as if what he was doing felt good. Surprised at her reaction, he abruptly stopped pawing her.

“What kinda slut are you?” he shouted, over the wind rushing by.

“Any kind you want,” she replied, suggestively. I was right. He gets off on forcing women. He wants their fear.

The men in the back seat poked each other and made rude sounds. It was clear they wished his hand had been one of theirs and that she would be one of theirs. Their leader, however, seemed discombobulated by her reaction. He put both his hands back on the steering mechanism and didn’t touch her again.

Jack wished there were some landmarks to observe that would help her to get home, should she escape. All she saw were miles and miles of empty sand, eerily lit by a pale sliver of moon. Even the cinnamon wind felt subdued, as if it sensed her troubles. At last, they simply stopped at the bottom of a large sand dune, no different than the hundreds of others they had passed to get to this point.

“Get down,” her captor ordered her, seeming out of sorts. “Bring the car,” he barked at his minions.

Jack did as she was bidden, not resisting when he pulled her towards a shadowed section of the hill. She felt a moment of disorientation and then they were inside the hill. She could not suppress her reaction before he saw it.

“It’s called Mirage,” he bragged. “Pretty slick, huh? Had no idea until you were through it, did ya?” His mouth twisted into an evil smile. “They ain’t never gonna find you here. How could you trade me a fine vehicle and a finer looking piece of ass for that kid? Women are so stupid.”

She felt nearly blind with rage, wanting to rip that smug expression off his face. He pushed her towards a nearby chair. “Sit down,” he suggested. “You can’t get out of here and there ain’t much you can damage, so there’s no point in tying you up. I’m gonna go take a shower and get me some supper. Dessert will come later.” He leered at her, thinking his double entendre had been clever.

Allah have mercy, she thought in desperation. Even if my scent gets Rick here, how will he reach me?